Dealing With You
by namelessDrifter
Summary: Stan and Bill have a History. Sometimes, History repeats itself. A series of interconnected drabbles from various points in Stan and Bill's interpersonal relationship. Stanbill. Cross posted from AO3 in original order
1. Dusty Memories and Bad Endings

_Hey guys! So I've decided to cross post this from AO3! I'll be posting a new chapter here every couple of days, but if you want to read every chapter NOW, feel free to check over there! If you'd rather wait and read it here, great! Thanks so much for reading!_

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Stan Pines. It would be a thousand years too soon if Bill ever had to hear THAT name again. After what he did. His brother, Stanley, _he_ wasn't too bad. It was a shame what happened, but there wasn't anything Bill could do about it.

But Stanford. Stanford Pines. _Stanford_. Stan. Bill supposed he still wasn't over it. It had been thirty years, sure, but to an omniscient being of unknowable power, that was hardly a day.

It goes without saying that when the opportunity arose to enter Stan's mind, he took it without a second thought. Bill had no _real_ intentions of actively looking for the code to the deed to the mystery shack, but really the contract with Gideon was just an easy way into the young man's head. Old man, Bill mentally corrected. He was an old man now.

He could feel it, as soon as he entered Stan's mind, he was being followed.

 _Oh no, that won't do,_ he thought, and with a mere thought time slowed to a crawl in Stans mind. He could be here for years now, uninterrupted, and hardly seconds would have passed in the outside world. Those kids, what were they again? Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Question Mark? Yes. They wouldn't get here until he was good and ready for them.

All this time, and Bill knew he wouldn't even bother searching for that deed. If he found it, he found it, good for him, but really that was so far down on his priority list as to be nonexistent.

"Where to start, where to start," Bill muttered, gleefully rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the many doors scattered around Stan's mindscape.

"Not much has changed, that's easy to see," he said. And it was true. While outside Stan may have aged like a fine wine, inside he was just the same as when Bill last saw him. Of course, last time Bill was here, he was a willing guest, but that was a different story.

He laid a hand on a dusty door knob. _A memory not visited much. Private. Personal._ "Let's see what's behind door number one!" He shouted gleefully, throwing the door open with reckless abandon, sending plumes of dust into the air. What he saw inside made him almost wish he hadn't.

There was Stan, 26, standing in front of a circle of candles. He was looking at a spot on the floor, as though afraid of looking directly at the creature in front of him. Bill remembered this. He remembered the anger, the fear on his part. How dare he, how _dare_ such a low creature make Bill Cipher feel even the smallest amounts of fear.

Sure enough, there was a second Bill, a different Bill, a Bill which only existed in this part of Stan's mind.

The younger Stan coughed, and kicked at the floor, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He flinched as the Bill in the circle grew red, large, angry, and let out a resounding, echoing, **" _WHAT!?"_**

"Look, I just…" Said the younger Stan. Bill wanted to turn away, slam the door, forget he ever saw it _no wonder this door was so dusty of course he hates you he left you all your doors are gonna be dusty why don't you just leave, fulfill your contract, ruin his life, call it a done deal._ But he couldn't. It was like watching a train wreck. Horrible, but you found yourself unable to turn away.

The younger Stan sighed. "I…" Bill watched as Stan's hands clenched into fists, watched as his doppelganger heaved deep, useless breathes of anger in the center of the circle. Bill remembered the feelings of anxiety that he was trying to hide, to contain in that moment. "I just can't keep doing this," young Stan finished.

Bill watched his past self shrink down, compose himself. Bill was surprised to see that his past self was still a very angry red, he could have swore he had himself completely under control in that moment. It was probably Stan's faulty memory, definitely that, it could be nothing else. Bill ignored the fact that he could _feel_ the authenticity of this memory, ignored the fact that he was steadily turning a dusty pink himself as he watched.

"Can't keep doing, _what_ , Stanford?" Past Bill asked, hissing the name just slightly.

Young Stan flusteredly gestured to the room around him. " _This!_ " He began pacing. "The secrets, the lies!"

Past Bill rolled his eye, putting on a mask of arrogance that was totally ruined by his emotional coloration. "You do lies for a living, Stanford." Current Bill flinched at the venom in his own voice.

"That's _different!_ " Stan shouted. Oh, did Bill remember this. This was when everything went Bad, he should leave, he should go, no, no. "No one gets _hurt_ when you're not around!"

Young Stan flinched. He hadn't meant to say that.

Past Bill stood very still. Whereas before he was still bobbing up and down, now he was frozen in place. "Is that what this is about?" he whispered.

The hurt on Stan's face, the agony. It was too much.

 ** _"IS THAT WHAT T̠͕̪͉̩H̦̜̲̗͈̝̼̖̀͘Ì̛̱̦̼̙͔͚͞Ś̺̯͎ ͔͉̙̬̙I̵̴̖͖͖̜̣͎͢ͅS͖͕̼͙͚̯̥͟͡ ͖͇̝A͟͏҉̝̝̳͉̱̥͕̱B̡͕͇̜͍O̭̣Ṵ̡̫͉͚̼T̥͕̀͠ͅ!?̸͈͈̻̮̕"_**

"Bill, please, you have to understand-"

Past Bill wouldn't hear it. " ** _Ņ̸̞̮̼̠͍͍͇̥̖͈̠͎̱̫͉̲̦̀ͅO͘҉̧̲̭̲̲̞̣̜̠̞̘̝̥ͅ_** I understand **_perfectly well_** , _Stanford._ Well you get your wish." He narrowed his one eye in the direction of the younger man, "You won't have to **_do this ANYMORE!"_**

"Bill-" Young Stan reached towards the circle, but it was too late. Past Bill had already blinked out of existence in an angry crack, and the color slowly leached back into the room.

Bill in the present continued watching the memory, curious as to how it panned out. He remembered being so angry that he didn't leave the dreamscape for a year, ignoring any summons he may have received.

He watched as young Stan pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and looked it over. "I can't live in this town anymore," he said to the empty circle, almost as if rehersing. He looked back at his paper. "And you can't leave. Not without making a deal. So, let's… Urgh," he groaned and balled up the paper, throwing it onto the floor. "Useless…"

Sensing the memory was over, Bill left the room.

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This series is based mainly around prompt fills. If you have a prompt or a request, leave it in the comments and you just might see it filled! Though maybe not in the way you were thinking! At the very least it will go in the prompt pool.


	2. One Good Eye and One Good Pie

_Here is the ORIGINAL chapter two! the fic on ao3 has been reordered since this was posted and will probably be reordered again, but not the stuff on here! I had to go and check the posting dates just to make sure this was really chapter two. and it was! Reminder that this story is very nonlinear. enjoy!_

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Lazy Susan. She was the first person to catch Stan's eye in over thirty years. Sure, he knew her before the twins came to visit, but she wasn't really date material before then. Granted, she wasn't really date material now. No matter. She had one good eye and one good pie, and was a welcome distraction from reminders of his own crippling loneliness for a few brief seconds.

Honestly the only reason she even caught his attention was her eye. And Dipper. If Dipper wasn't so much like the twins' late grandfather, he wouldn't be in this mess. He wouldn't have even looked her way if Dipper wasn't the spitting image of Stanley Pines. Truly, it was only a passing interest. For a brief moment, there Stanley was again, in front of him complaining about how "no one takes him seriously as a man" and Stan found himself wondering when the one-eyed weirdo would show up and take things too far before putting them back right, yet again. There was no one-eyed weirdo, only their one-good-eyed waitress, and that was enough to catch his fancy in that fleeting moment.

Mabel latched onto it though. And what kind of Grunkle would he be if Stan didn't humor her efforts? One confusing musical montage later, Stan went from undatable to VERY undatable, and yet he still ended up inadvertently winning Lazy Susan's heart. Stan didn't think there was any room left in there for someone not a cat.

Lazy Susan had one good eye. And one lazy eye. Two eyes. Not just one. And she was large. Not large as in fat, though she had some weight on her sure, but so did Stan so he'd be kinda a hypocrite if he held that against her. No, she was large, had physical presence, was too… Dimensional. She had too many dimensions and yet not enough. She didn't exist on several planes of reality at once, and if you've ever sort of dated someone who did, it kinda made all other dating prospects lackluster.

Dating her would mean never having to explain why _no, you can't give unending night terrors to the man at the other table for calling me crazy. Yes I know he probably deserves it, now sit down, you're making me make a scene._ Dating her meant never having to draw blood and strike a deal whenever Stan wanted to actually see who he was quasi-dating while awake.

Dating her would mean no dreamscape physics, no screaming heads, no getting poked with a cane, no " _Stan that eyepatch looks great! Let's gouge it out so you can wear it!_ " and no having to explain that you didn't have to actually be missing an eye to wear an eyepatch.

It would be easy, but it was even easier to just let the calls go to voicemail. He wasn't interested in her for the 30 years he's forced himself to stay here, and he's not gonna be interested now.

He wasn't going to replace that one-eyed dork so easily. Sure, the argument can be made that it's been 30 years, plenty of time to get over someone. But when that someone was so spectacularly weird and odd and unnerving as Bill was, it's a little hard to find someone who even comes close to being a suitable replacement.

Sure, he was lonely. But the twins were a great distraction, even if sometimes Dipper reminded him of who he'd lost. Yes, he'd lost a brother. And yes, through careless words he'd lost a… whatever he and Bill were. But worrying about it now would just take away his enjoyment of the present.

And romance was overrated, anyway. A few small gestures here and there would be nice, true, but it wasn't something Stan really craved. If it wasn't misguided attempts at courtship from a pandimensional tortilla chip, then he would pass, thanks.

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This fic is very prompt driven. If there's something you want to see, leave it in a review, and it'll go into the prompt pool


	3. Would you care to explain?

_When I first started this fic, this was the first chapter that came to mind, but not the first one i wrote. Takes place directly after Sock Opera, where Stan and Bill are quasi back together._

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Stan sat in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. A certain someone had some explaining to do. The kids had gone to bed a few hours ago, and while Stan was sure they fell right asleep (after all, today had been a busy day), he still wanted to wait a little while before he talked to his… Whatever he and Bill were these days. Just to be sure there were no listening ears.

"Bill, I know you're watching," he said to the empty air. "So give up the pretense and dreamscape me."

Stan looked around, and noticed the world was still full of color. He leaned back in his recliner and groaned. He was getting too old for this. " _Now_ ," he said.

Of course, Stan had no way of knowing if Bill was _actually_ watching, but after today Stan was pretty sure he would be. Just when he was about to get up and pull out the candles ( _Bill Cipher would be_ explaining _, no matter what)_ , the world faded to muted gray.

"You really _do_ care, Stan, I'm touched," said Bill with slightly more sincerity than he would ever admit to.

"Bill," Stan began, "would you care to explain _why_ , exactly, my great nephew required stitches in his arm and has a sprained wrist." It wasn't a question.

"He was getting in too deep," Bill said, with only the barest amounts of glee. "So I took care of it!" He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Stan let out an exasperated sigh. It figured. He knew Bill well enough to understand his logic. Kid gets too close to the truth, so the natural thing to do is throw him off the trail. You _could_ do this by gently steering him away from the supernatural with physical training, or leaving false clues, Stan's preferred method. Or, you could take the direct approach, Bill's approach, and take matters into your own hands. Of course, with Bill, 'your own hands' meant 'Dipper's hands,' because _of course_ Bill never had to do things the rational way.

Yes, Stan understood the logic, and it worked, to some extent. Stan knew Dipper wouldn't be back out in the woods for a few days (though it was only a matter of time before he was hitting the trails, once again) and with the laptop gone (kid didn't even realize Stan knew about it- he had intercepted it when Soos dropped it off and put a password on it, but of course that was no deterrent) there was no way Dipper could figure out the identity of that six-fingered nerd on his own.

"Sorry, I forgot that your idea of 'taking care of it' usually resulted in involuntary possession," Stan said sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Bill said, cane manifesting out of the ether for the sole purpose of jabbing it in Stans direction.

"Sides," he continued, "it wasn't _totally_ involuntary. Pine Tree did make a deal, after all. Didn't you teach that kid about dealing with demons?" Bill tsked and gave the impression of shaking his head. "He's lucky it was only me, kid did _not_ think that one through."

"Bill, I may not know exactly what happened, but I do know you made an offer while he was severely sleep deprived. Trust me, it was involuntary." Stan deadpanned.

Bill rolled his eye. "Still doesn't change the fact that he hardly thought twice about what I was askin' for."

Now there was a thought. Dipper may be young but he was calculating. He never did anything without carefully weighing the pro and cons. And Stan really did mean _everything._ Kid wouldn't even take a shower without making a two page list.

Stan eyed Bill skeptically. "So what did you ask for that was so seemingly harmless?"

Bill did a little dance with his cane before throwing his arms out wide. "A puppet!" He gleefully exclaimed.

Stan's palm met his forehead with a groan. "Could you _be_ anymore obvious?"

"Yep!" Said Bill. He never quite got the concept of rhetorical questions.

Stan would be having a talk with Dipper very soon about making deals without understanding the full implications of them. He'd have to be careful about it, though. He didn't want the kids to know he was onto their continuing mystery hunt, and he _definitely_ didn't want them knowing he knew Bill. That wouldn't end well.

"Look, Bill, next time you wanna keep the kids off a trail can you run it by me first?"

"Jeeze, Stan, no need to be such a wet blanket." Bill snapped his fingers, and, predictably enough, a sopping wet quilt plopped into Stan's lap.

Stan didn't bat an eye, already reaclimated to Bills unique sense of humor, and simply pushed it onto the floor. "I'm being serious here, Bill."

Bill snapped his fingers and the quilt was gone. "Sure kid," he said with a roll of his eye, "if it'll help you sleep at night."

"It will. And don't call me kid, I'm a grown adult," he said crossing his arms.

"Everyone's a kid to me, kid!" Bill tipped his hat. _Now he was just doing it on purpose._ "Now, if you don't mind," Bill sang, leaving the 'I'll be leaving now' unspoken.

"Sure, sure," Stan said, casually shooing the demon away. "Go do whatever it is you do, make people, I don't know, step on legos or whatever." He waved a hand dismissively.

"See ya around, Stanford. And remember: I'll be watching!" He said just before winking out of existence.

Stan woke up out of his chair with a start. "Of course you will," he said as he rested his elbow on his knees and rubbed his eyes.

He should have been more upset or unnerved at Bills methods, but he found it hard to be. He knew Bill, knew he liked to cause trouble, and knew that Bill didn't really know where the line was. Sure, he had his own personal limits, but they were so far past what people would consider reasonable as to be considered heinous.

It didn't help that Stan himself had a dubious moral standard, so perhaps that was why Bill's methods weren't nearly so unreasonable seeming as they probably should've been. Of course, sometimes Stan wondered if he would have the same moral code without Bill's influence. But in the end, it didn't really matter, did it? Wondering about it didn't change the fact that Stan sat there, decidedly unbothered by Bill's methods.

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This fic is primarily prompt based. If there's anything you'd like to see, feel free to leave it in a review, and it'll go into the prompt pool


	4. Grunkle Who Now?

_Sorry for not posting yesterday! Lost track of time! This takes place at the beginning of their second summer. Enjoy!_

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Stan sipped his coffee, casually side eyeing the demon sitting across the table from him. Said demon currently had his fingers ensnared in a chinese finger trap, and appeared the be desperately working to get them free. "Sooo," Stan began, not really sure how to bring up this particular topic. "The twins'll be here next week. Start of summer and all."

"Uh huh, that's great," said Bill, clearly not paying attention.

Stan gave him an unamused look before rolling his eyes. He took another sip of his coffee. "And I was thinking about giving the deed to the shack back to Gideon and leaving Gravity Falls forever."

"Sure, kid, whatever makes you happy," said Bill. Now Stan knew he _definitely_ wasn't paying attention.

"Bill, this is serious." Stan said, setting down his coffee and massaging his temples.

The finger trap ignited in blue fire and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Bill turned from where he hovered just above the seat, and leaned an elbow on the table. "You have my undivided attention, Stan Pines."

"Like I was saying," Stan began again, "The twins are coming back next week."

"Gee, I never would have guessed," Said Bill with a roll of his eye. He glanced behind Stan at the calendar that had May 31 circled in red with big bold letters that clearly proclaimed "TWINS RETURN." Pine Trees and Shooting Stars and large, pointing arrows were scribbled around the circle. Nearly half the month of May was taken up for the sole purpose of drawing attention to its end.

Bill sighed, and floated out of the chair, "Guess I'll go get started packing my bags. Back to the lonely, gray, dark, _lonely_ mindscape for this all powerful demon."

Stan grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards his seat, "Quit moping I wasn't finished yet."

"Look," Stan sighed, "We have, whatever this is," he gestured between the two of them, "and if we learned anything last summer, it's that no secret is safe from a pair of pines twins."

"If it took you _that_ long to learn that, you're not nearly as smart as I thought," said Bill. Pines Twins had been causing problems for generations, and the newest set was no exception.

"Anyway, _as I was saying_ ," Stan glared at Bill for the interruption, though it was clear there was no genuine malice behind it, "If we try to hide, _this_ ," another awkward gesture between the two of them, "then they're gonna find out, and I'd rather not deal with the eventual feelings of betrayal."

Bill narrowed his eye suspiciously. "What're you getting at?"

"Let's just… not? Change?" Honestly, Stan wasn't really sure _what_ he was getting at. "I mean," he paused a minute, trying to think things through a bit, "If they're gonna find out anyway, then why try to hid it in the first place? Whatever _it_ is."

"So what you're saying, is you wanna just keep things as they are?" Bill asked. Stan nodded in reply. "And extend the deal we made at the end of last summer?" Stan nodded again, and drank from his coffee. "Well, alright then." Bill extended a hand, cloaked in blue fire. "How long do you want to extend this for, anyway? Another year? Eighteen months, maybe?"

Stan placed his hand in Bills, and shook it once, firmly. "The rest of my natural life," he said. No hesitation. No questions. A permanent extension on the deal they made at the end of last summer. Bill's eye briefly widened in surprise.

It was a simple enough deal, to be sure. Bill wards off nightmares in exchange for the ability to use Stan as a jumping board in and out of the mindscape. He couldn't be seen by anyone who wasn't Stan unless he willed it, but he could interact with the material world, to some extent. And it meant Stan wouldn't have to be passed out whenever they wanted to have a friendly chat. It also meant it was easier to pull Stan himself into the mindscape. If Bill _really_

wanted to, he could fudge the terms of their deal and take over Stan's body entirely, but where was the fun in that? As things were, he could terrify tourists with little more than a carefully placed sheet, and it would be a lie to say Bill wasn't looking forward to the summer rush.

It connected them, and Stan was an anchor to places outside of this town. It was a minor deal, but to extend it for so long… Jumping in and out of the mindscape wasn't easy, by any means, and it required at least partial ownership of a soul native to the physical world. Really, that was what their deal was about. Temporary, partial ownership of Stan's life. Stan _knew_ this, had researched and come up the terms for this particular deal _30 years_ ago. But here he was, offering up half his soul, forever, like it was nothing.

Of course, there was a slight downside for Bill too. If he kept jumping, as often as he did, without taking breaks every few months like they had planned on, he himself could be tethered to Stan's being as much as Stan was to his. But was that really so bad?

"Sounds like a plan," Bill said, shaking Stan's hand once more to finalize the arrangement before letting go.

They went about the rest of their day as though nothing had happened. Stan sat behind the cash register, waiting for any stray tourists, while Bill loitered about the rest of the shack.

Neither Soos nor Wendy were working during the off-season, with Soos away at college, and Wendy still in school. They would both be returning to Stan's payroll at the start of the Summer when the twins arrived, and Stan was glad for that.

Business had started to pick up slightly in May, with other school districts getting out earlier, but it wasn't too much for Stan to handle on his own just yet. Of course he wasn't _really_ on his own, and if it came down to it, Stan knew Bill would have no problem magic-ing himself up a body to temporarily run the cash register. It was a drain on him though, so he didn't do it too terribly often.

Five PM came and went, and Stan closed up the shop before settling in for yet another boring old lady movie marathon. Bill never really found them interesting, but he always enjoyed watching how into it Stan got.

The next few days passed just the same, and before either really realized it a Taxicab was pulling out of the Mystery Shack parking lot and twin tween hands were knocking on the front door.

Stan was eating his morning oatmeal when he heard Mabel's enthusiastic cries of "Grunkle Stan! Open up!" He dropped his spoon in shock and glanced at the demon in his usual spot across the table.

"Is it the 31st already?!" He tried and failed not to shout. He looked at the calendar. Sure enough, the rest of the week had gone by in a flash. "We haven't even figured out what we're going to tell them," he said, more to himself than anyone.

"You'll figure something out, kid," said Bill, lazily working on solving a what-the-heckahedron.

"Grunkle Stan!" This time it was Dipper.

"Keep your shorts on, I'm coming," shouted Stan as he got up from the table.

"Fair warning, Stanford, I plan on staying on the visible spectrum," said Bill looking up from his puzzle. He squinted his eye shut briefly before saying "wink!"

"Just, stay in here until I'm ready, alright?" Bill gave a thumbs up and Stan went to the front door. "Isosceles bastard," he muttered under his breath.

He opened the door and was immediately tackled by his great niece. "We missed you!" She shouted, clinging to Stan as he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.

Dipper, ever the observant one, noticed this odd behavior. "Grunkle Stan, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, let's go inside," said Mabel as she climbed off her Grunkle.

"Kids, before we go inside, there's something I have to tell you." Stan lowered himself to one knee so he was eye level to them. He put a hand on each of the kids shoulder.

"What's up, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked.

"Kids, you know I love you very much, right?" They both nodded. "I know last summer was crazy, and I kept some things from you I probably shouldn't have. A while back, I, uhh, _met_ someone," ever the romantic, Mabels eyes lit up at that, "and while you were away, we started, well, living together. So before we go inside, I want you to know that I... lo- _like_ this guy _very_ much, so..."

Mabel squealed. "You got a _boyfriend!"_ She jumped up and down, trying to peer inside the house. "Lemmie see him! Is he ruggedly handsome? Are you gonna get married?" She gasped at that. "You gotta let me plan the wedding! Dipper!" She turned and shook her twin, "You can be the ring bearer!"

"Mabel slow down," said Dipper. "I think Grunkle Stan would tell us if he started dating someone, right?" He smiled halfheartedly and turned to his Grunkle for confirmation. " _Right?"_ He pressed when he received none.

Stan stood up and gave a nervous laugh. "It's... complicated."

Dipper narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Complicated how?"

"He's... it's just..." Stan waved a hand, as though a reasonable excuse would just fall into it. He sighed, "Look, this guy, he's a part of my life now. And you two are a part of my life. And he doesn't have to be a part of yours, but can you both just promise me you'll give him a chance?"

Dipper gave a hesitant "Ok," greatly contrasting his twin's enthusiastic "Alright!" It was good enough for Stan.

As soon as he stepped aside and opened the door, the twins scrambled inside, only to stop short when they entered the living room and saw the shape sitting at the table at the other end of the room. "Kids," said Stan from behind them, "meet your Grunkle Bill."

Mabel screamed. Dipper fainted. It wasn't too terrible, as far as reactions went.

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This fic is primarily prompt-driven. Have something you wanna see? Leave it in a review (or PM) and I'll add it to the prompt pool!


	5. Revolving Doors and Good Beginings

_this takes place directly after chapter one. Also, I want to thank you for the lovely reviews i've recieved on here. Really made my morning *heart*_

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Bill slammed the door, sending plumes of dust up everywhere. It was too much, too much feeling. Too much. "Welp, that was horrible," he said, voice full of false bravado.

"Let's stay away from the abandoned doors from here on out, hmm?" It was for the best, really. It would be a thousand years too soon if Bill had to see any other memories with him in them. He decided to wander the more heavily trafficked areas of Stan's mindscape. The places with worn floors, and threadbare rugs that had been trudged on thousand and thousand of times ago.

In amongst the rustic doors with latches and locks was an anomaly. "Well, well, what do we have here," he said, as he hovered up to the odd door. It was a chase door. One of those free swinging doors frequently used at restaurants, designed to dash in and out of quickly. It was like the exact opposite of the dusty door- this room had been entered and exited so frequently that even a simple knob had become an inconvenience.

"This is probably one of his most treasured moments!" Bill exclaimed. He wiped a tear from his eye. "How precious!" He was going to destroy it. Not without seeing what it was first, of course. He wasn't stupid. Just a little vindictive.

He unceremoniously floated through the threshold, causing it to swing wildly back and forth behind him.

He kept to the edge of the memory, however he quickly found that he recognized the scenery. The Ecorse drive-in theatre all the way out in Taylor, Michigan.

The year was 1980, and a triple conjunction between Mars and Jupiter- the king and the warrior crossing paths thrice- triggered a power surge that allowed Bill to actually leave his domain for three full months.

Naturally, the Stan twins (mostly Stanley) decided it'd be a great idea to use Bill's temporary freedom to drag him across the united states with them on one of their "Investigations."

It was July by the time their travels had taken them to Michigan, and Bill only had one more month outside of Gravity Falls. He had wanted to do something fun this evening, and Stanley was dead tired, so he suggested that Stanford take the car and go to the local drive-in, which was where present Bill found himself now.

He drifted between the cars until he found the ever-familiar STNLYMBL, and sure enough, there he was with a younger Stanford Pines.

Stan was leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he peered misty eyed out the windshield. He was trying his damndest not to cry during the climax of "The Duchess Approves." Past Bill, meanwhile, had opted instead to watch Stan. His reactions were _way_ more entertaining than the snorefest that was on now. For reasons even an omniscient being couldn't fathom, The Duchess Approves was Stan's favorite movie series, and he had nearly every line from all three films memorized. As well as nearly every line from the remakes, which were the exact same, but set in space.

Past Bill rolled his eye. "What, do you need a hug or something?"

Stan had only looked over and sniffed wetly. This was apparently enough to set him off as fat, wet tears began falling down his face in steady rivets.

"Woah, hey, I didn't think you actually," Past Bill hovered closer to Stan and his hands flitted about the younger man before settling on awkwardly patting his back.

Stan then did something to Bill that no one had ever done before- caught him off guard. It happened in a flash, one minute Bill was patting Stan on the shoulder, the next Stan had wrapped his arms around the triangle and held on tight. Bill froze up for a moment before gently returning the hug.

It was like a flood, Bill remembered finding himself so suddenly full of emotions, things he'd never felt before. A terrirorialness Bill generally only felt in regards to Gravity Falls had suddenly found itself applied to Stanford Pines. Stanford Pines had somehow shifted from the brother of his longtime associate and occasional ally into something else entirely. He had become territory to be protected, and something else. Something Bill hadn't felt the need to ever really define.

In that moment all Bill had known was that something had damaged what he now considered his property, and something had to be done about that. The wind picked up out of nowhere, a straight line of gale force winds swept overhead like a marching army. The screen of the drive-in had found itself blown away from the sudden derecho that tore through the area, somehow leaving the STNLYMBL completely untouched.

Bill stared, dumbfounded at the ruined drive-in in the mindscape. _This_ was Stan's most treasured memory? The stupid time he lost control? Rediculous. Ridiculous, _ridiculous._

With a frustrated sigh, Bill quickly exited the memory, not even stopping to destroy it like he had planned. There was probably some mistake. This wasn't what Stan considered one of his most precious moments, and if Bill told himself that enough times then maybe it'd be true.

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This fic is primarily prompt driven. Feel free to leave a prompt in a review, or PM


	6. The Cake Metaphor

_i dont know if i've mentioned it here, but this fic is basically the MOST self-indulgent thing I've ever written, and i consider this the most self-indulgent chapter. *rubs ace headcanons all over ur favs*_

 _also, to the guest reviewer, thank you for your review and im rEALLY GLAD you like this pairing. There needs to be more for it, tbh it's so great. Not to discount other Bill pairings but this is by far my fav_

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Stan sat in his chair, watching some of his old Loinclothiclese films. The twins were... Somewhere. He kinda stopped keeping tabs on them after their first week back. Fifteen year olds were trouble, and Bill did a good enough job keeping them out of anything too dangerous.

He was just about to get up and change to the next tape of the Loinclothiclese saga when he heard a knock coming from the threshold. "Umm, Grunkle Stan?" It was Dipper.

"Ya need somethin', kid?" he asked, settling back into his seat. Dipper had that look on his face, the one that said _I want answers but I don't know how to ask._

He stood awkwardly in the threshold before moving to sit down on the step. "Can I.. Can I ask you something?"

Stan resisted the urge to point out that he just did, and instead said, "Go on." Dipper looked troubled.

"Have you and Bill ever… you know…" He trailed off, looking everywhere but Stan's eyes.

"Know what?" Stan shifted slightly in his seat to face Dipper more.

"Done… things?" Dipper's face started turning scarlet. Stan had an idea of where this conversation was going.

He raised an eyebrow. "Things?"

"You know, _things_ ," Dipper said, looking just to the left of Stan. He made a suggestive hand gesture to illustrate his point.

"Oh," said Stan. Yep, that was where this was going. "Those things. That's a little personal there, kid."

Dipper finally looked Stan in the eyes. "So, you _have_ done things?" He looked… Disappointed?

Stan laughed. "What? No, are you kidding?" He wiped a tear from his eye. "You're kidding, right?"

Dipper fidgeted with his hands "Ummm, No?" That clearly wasn't the reaction he was expecting.

"No, Bill and I haven't, and will never, do _things._ Why'd you wanna know, anyway?" Stan asked.

Dipper sighed. "It's Carla."

"Who?" The name was only vaguely familiar.

"Carla? My girlfriend? Back in California?"

"Ah," said Stan. He remembered now. Dipper had mentioned her once or twice during their weekly video chats. "What about her? Are you and her…?" He trailed off, not really sure how one would even go about asking that sort of question.

"No, no," said Dipper, shaking his head. "Ew," he made a face but then suddenly stopped as if he hadn't meant to say that. "Actually, no, Ew, that's- that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Before we left, she kept wanting to, to _you know,_ and it was just… _ew_."

He was back to looking everywhere but Stan, and began gesturing wildly with his hands. "And it's like, all my friends talk about, how they did _this_ or _that_ on one weekend, or how many girls they _did things_ with at homecoming and it's just so _ew_ and I tried talking to Dad about it, but all he did was hand me a pack of condoms and say," at this part Dipper deepened his voice and straightened his posture, and put a hand to his chest as if to mimic his father, " _Son, you'll find the right girl some day!_ " his slouch returned, "and I just don't think that's ever going to happen, because, just…" he trailed off.

"Ew?" Stan finished for him.

Dipper looked up at him and smiled slightly, "Yeah. Ew."

Stan stood up, and walked over to where Dipper sat. "Scoot over, kid," he said, and Dipper moved so that Stan could sit next to him. "Now," he started, "I can't say I know _exactly_ how you feel-"

Dipper put his head in his hands, "I knew it I'm a freak," he muttered.

"Hey, I wasn't finished," Stan gave Dipper a gentle shove, and continued when he looked up, "I don't know _exactly_ how you feel, but I _do_ know where you're coming from."

"You do?" The slight glimmer of hope in Dipper's voice was heartbreaking.

"Yes, I do," Stan paused for a minute, trying to think of the best way to explain things. "Dipper, what's your _least_ favorite kind of cake? The kind you can't stand, wouldn't eat if it were the last thing on earth."

Dipper made a face. "Coconut. It's disgusting."

Stan nodded. "Ok, so sex," he didn't miss the way Dipper flinched at the word, "is like coconut cake."

Dipper raised an eyebrow. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there, " Stan continued. "So, a lot of people _really_ like coconut cake. Some people go really out of there way to get coconut cake, making it from scratch and everything. Me, personally? I don't really like it, but if you gave it to me I wouldn't turn it down, 'cause hey, free stuff. But I'm not going to go and actively search for coconut cake, and if there's other things I'd rather have that, and if I'm not in the mood I don't really want anything to do with it, 'cause, yeah, it's kinda gross. This making sense so far?"

Dipper nodded. He could sort of follow.

"Alright, so then, there's people like you," he poked Dipper's chest. "Some people just can't _stand_ coconut cake. It's the absolute _worst_. And that's ok. Not everyone _needs_ coconut cake, and I happen to agree with you, it's kinda gross, and I only like it in the right circumstances."

Stan watched the gears turn in Dipper's head as the informations sank in. "Wait," he said, "So, you mean, this is…. Normal?"

"Yes it's normal," Stan said. "Has a name too."

"It does?" Dipper asked.

"Asexuality. It means you don't find people sexually attractive. In your case, it'd be sex repulsed. Either way, it's perfectly normal."

"Asexual?" Dipper muttered, testing the word in his mouth. He took a moment to process what stann just told him via convoluted metaphors. "Hold on, you said _you_ don't like coconut cake, too, does that mean…?"

"Yep." Stan reached behind Dipper's ear, and pulled out a card. He placed it in Dipper's hand. _Ace of Spades._ "Ace."

Dipper grinned at the card and looked over at Stan. "Grunkle Stan?"

"Yeah, kid?"

Caught up in the moment, Dipper did something he rarely did in the three years he and his sister had been coming to Gravity Falls. He reached over, and hugged his Grunkle Stan. " _Thank you,"_ he whispered.

Stan sat there frozen for a moment, and Dipper darted off with a "I gotta go tell Mabel."

"No problem, kid," Stan muttered. "No problem."

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This fic is primarily prompt driven. Feel free to leave a prompt in a review or PM and it'll go into the prompt pool


	7. When Stanley Met Bill

_did i update yesterday? i dont remember. anyway, here's a blast from the past. enjoy_

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Finally, Stanley had done it. Unearthed the spell to call forth the mighty demon Cipher from its domain. He was expecting gnashing fangs and beating wings. What he wasn't expecting, was Bill.

"Wow wee," said Bill from where he floated in the center of the circle. "First summons in 70 years and I was not expecting some weedy teen."

Stanley dropped his notebook."Y-you're a triangle!" He exclaimed, not bothering to correct the demon and insist that he was 22 and therefore hardly a teen, even if he did have a baby face and a bit of acne.

Bill rolled his eye. "Ten points to you, kid. Here, have a prize." He snapped his fingers and thousands of spiders fell on top of Stanley who shrieked only a little and frantically worked to shove them off his arms. As soon as they left his body the arachnids were revealed to be merely an illusion as they dissolved away in misty smoke.

Once Stanley got over the initial shock he started laughing. "That was great!" He said. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Sure did. The name's Bill Cipher. What can I do for you?"

Stanley grinned and picked up his notebook. "I have questions," he said. He flipped to a page about midway through the spiral bound journal, and skimmed it. "Like why does all this weird stuff happen in gravity falls, and is the government run by lizard people and oh! Ooooh!" At this he pulled a pencil from behind his ear and tapped it against his chin "What's the exact time and date of my death?"

Bill held up his arms in a placating gesture. "Easy, kid, slow down a minute." He pulled a cane from the ether and propped himself up on it. "Having questions is all well and good, but what's in it for me?"

"Oh, right," muttered Stanley. He adjusted his glasses and flipped to another page in his notebook. He cleared his throat and read, "In exchange for honest answers or solutions to the mysteries of gravity falls, I grant you full access to my dreams to be devoured by you."

Bill hummed thoughtfully. The deal was fair enough, and Bill knew that he had enough wiggle room to give the kid answers without _really_ giving him answers, but he was pretty sure he could get more out of this. "How about this instead: you get one question per day, which I will answer, and in exchange I get to live with you and eat your dreams."

"Why would you want to live with me?" Stanley asked, only a little confused. That was a really odd request.

Now there was a question. The truth was, Bill was incredibly bored. And it wasn't everyday he got summoned for answers and knowledge for its own sake rather than to get ahead of others. "Because you seem interesting, kid. So are you gonna take the deal or no?" Bill was already holding out his hand, ready to shake.

Stanley went over the new terms in his head. Something seemed a little off. "I ask you one question per day?"

"Yep!"

"Which you answer..."

"That's what I said."

Stanley figured out what it was. "How about this: I ask you one question per day, which you answer _truthfully_ and in exchange you live with me and eat my dreams?"

Bill had to hand it to him, the kid was smart. "Sound like a deal?"

Stanley stuck out his hand. "Deal."

They shook.

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this fic is primarily prompt driven. leave a prompt and it'll go into the pool, etc etc


	8. Heavy Breathing

_Short chapter is short. I just want to say thank you SO MUCH for your wonderful feedback. Special shoutout to the one with the triangle jokes. Love a good pun *hearts*_

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Stanley was busy. Currently, he was doing his best to document the habits of a wild pixie that just happened to land on the windowsill, an incredibly rare occurrence. Of course it was something he was very willing to document. A Busy Stanley meant a Focused Stanley, and a Focused Stanley meant a very bored Bill.

"Soooo," said Bill as he idly floated next to his associate. "Has that brother of yours made any plans to visit?" he asked. He knew the answer was no, but he also knew Stanley wasn't paying any attention.

"Uh-huh," muttered Stanley, as if on cue, as he furiously scribbled in that dinky little notebook of his.

"Really?" asked Bill, voice full of fake astonishment. "Is that so? Sometime soon, I hope?"

"Sometime, yeah, probably," replied Stanley, who was still too focused on sketching gossamer wings dripping with pixie dust to process the words coming out of his mouth. Say what you will about Stanley Pines, but he was a master of pretending to pay attention. It's the only way he got through high school.

"So I guess you won't mind if I call him, then? See what his plans are?" The trap was laid. Bill couldn't actually touch anything in the shack without Stanley's permission, as a part of their ongoing deal, but with how in-the-zone, as it were, Stanley was now, maybe Bill could find some entertainment for himself after all.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you need Bill," Stanley said, as he sketched the tiny ribbons on the pixie's delicate shoes.

"Thanks, pal," said Bill as he blinked out of the room and into the kitchen where the phone was.

He dialed Stanford's number without even checking the sticky note it was written on that was stuck to the fridge. Limited omniscience was nothing if not convenient. The phone rang once. Twice. Bill idly twisted the phone cord around his finger.

Of course it went straight to voicemail. Bill knew it would. If he had a mouth he'd be grinning when he heard the gruff "This is Stanford Pines. Don't leave a message." He could feel his color shifting to a slight pink as he cackled nervously into the receiver at the beep before hanging up.

Later that evening, Stanford noted to his displeasure that he had a voicemail. With a sigh, he let the machine play back the message. There was an odd, twisted laughter, that echoed eerily followed by a click as the call ended. With a groan, Stanford rolled his eyes. _Bill_. His brother's annoying roommate was calling him again.

Stanford would deal with it in the morning. As annoying as Bill was, Stanford knew he couldn't do anything about him at the moment. Besides that, he was tired from a long day trying and failing to sell vacuums. He erased the message, resolved to call his brother in the morning, and went to bed.

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This fic is primarily prompt driven. Leave a prompt and it'll go into the prompt pool


	9. Plans for the Holidays

_Stan and Bill finally meet! Not in the way one of you predicted, but i've got a chapter in mind for that hahahahahah_

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"And so _then_ ," came the voice at the other end of the phone, "Bill just starts _singing_ so I think, what the hell, _why not_ so me and Fiddleford just join in, and it _turns out_ zombie's skulls can be completely shattered by perfect three part harmony."

Stanford Pines wasn't really listening. Instead he just nodded, even though the action couldn't be seen by his twin and interjected with the appropriate 'uh huhs' and ' _really_ s'.

Every week his brother called from that no-name town he ended up in for his 'research.' Gravity's Mall? Someplace like that. Apparently he and some guy he met named Bill got into all kinds of trouble, but of course Stanford, being the sensible one, never really put much stock in his brother's stories. He humored him, sure, but seriously? Zombies? Stanford may not be the smartest guy around but he wasn't an idiot, either.

Their mother may have raised one fool, but it sure as hell wasn't Stan Pines. Well, Stan _ford_ Pines. Forget whatever Stanley was doing in Gravatron Halls, the _real_ mystery was what kinda parent named both their kids _Stan_.

"Stanford? Brother? Hello, are you there?"

"Huh, what, yeah I'm still here," said Stanford. He had completely zoned out for a minute there.

"I said, Bill wants to know if you're planning on visiting over christmas. He really wants to meet you," Stanley repeated.

"Oh. Bill," Stanford cleared his throat, not quite sure how to answer. He'd never met the guy, but he freaked Stanford out like nobody's business. "Is he there with you?"

Stanford had only spoken to him a few times, but man was that guy creepy. "No, no, he's out right now," replied Stanley.

"Ah, right. Out." Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if there was a polite way to say 'please keep that guy one million miles away from me at all times.' It was always awkward when Stanley handed the phone over to the other man. His voice was annoying, and there was always this weird, feedbacky sound. The one time Stanford had asked about it, Stanley had made a noncommittal sound and said that his voice was just like that. Plus he had this weird habit of leaving creepy voice mails whenever he called.

Stanford awkwardly coughed. "Right, listen," he started, "Why don't you, and, ugh," he shuddered, " _Bill_ come down here instead?"

"Oh, that sounds great, brother, I'd love to," Stanford heard a sigh, and waited patiently for the excuse, "but Bill can't exactly _leave_ Gravity Falls."

"Well sure he can, just tell him to take a week off, from… wherever it is he works," said Stanford. He never quite figured out what that guy actually did for a living. Or what Stanley did, for that matter.

"No, no, I mean he can't leave. You should just come visit, it would be much easier."

Stanford sighed. "Look, Stanley, I… There's no polite way to say this, but Bill gives me the willies. I'd rather not meet the guy outside my own home."

"What?" Stanley sounded like a kicked puppy. Stanford flinched. "Come on, he's not so bad once you get to know him. And it'd mean a lot to me if my brother and my best friend could be pals."

Stanford could _hear_ the pitiful expression on his brother's face. "Does this _really_ mean that much to you?"

"You mean you'll come?" The little spark of hope in Stanley's voice was too much.

"Fine, I'll come," Stanford sighed. "But only for you."

"Thanks, brother!" said Stanley. "I'm gonna go let Bill know right now, talk to you later!"

The call ended with a click before Stanford even had the chance to say goodbye.

And that was how Stanford found himself standing out on the porch of a small cabin on a cold December afternoon. He set his bag down and knocked on the door.

"Bill can you get that?" he heard Stanley shout.

Stanford wasn't sure what he was expecting when the door opened. A nasally twenty something, smooth talking con man? Yes. Maybe Bill was someone tall and willowy. Or perhaps someone short and round. Either way, Stanford wouldn't have been surprised.

What he was not expecting, was the glowing, gold triangle that floated just above eye level.

"So," he coughed into his fist. "You must be Bill?" he asked, coming to the only logical conclusion available.

"Sure am!" said the triangle. It didn't have any lips or mouth out of which to speak, and instead dimmed and brightened on each syllable. "It's good to finally meet you. Stanley's told me a _lot_ about you." His voice confirmed that he was, in fact, Bill. It still had that echo-y quality to it that Stanford hated, too. Guess Stanley was right, his voice really _was_ just like that.

Bill floated aside and Stanford stepped into the house. It was a rustic place, very homey. "So, uhhh," he looked around, not really sure what to say. Was he dreaming? Probably. He expected to wake up on the bus any minute now.

Stanley waked into the entry hallway, wiping his hands on a rag which he set on an end table as he passed. He pulled Stanford into a hug. "It's good to see you, brother!" he said.

Stanford patted his back awkwardly, and they parted. "Wow, so," he started, "This is, this is weird, right?" he gestured between himself and his brother and Bill.

Stanley just looked confused at the question. "Weird?"

Stanford wasn't surprised that he'd have to explain himself further. His brother always had a skewed sense of normalcy. "He is literally a triangle. Like an actual shape. Literally," Stanford deadpanned.

"Well, what other shape would a demon even be, anyway?" Stanley asked.

Stanford turned to Bill, taking in the creature before him. "When you called Bill a demon I thought you just meant 'demon' as in smooth talking con-man, not literal denizen of hell."

Bill was about to correct the man, but Stanley beat him to it, "Dreamscape, actually."

"Dream-what?" Stanford raised an eyebrow.

"He's a denizen of the Dreamscape, not hell," Stanley explained.

"Because that makes this less weird," Stanford said sarcastically.

If Bill were being honest with himself, he was mildly astonished. Stanford was taking the whole "your brother's roommate is a literal demon" thing surprisingly well. Of course, he knew he would, but it was one thing to _know_ it would happen and another thing entirely to watch it unfold before him. And besides that, his omniscience was a little fuzzy when it came to predicting his own future (not that he'd ever in a million years admit it).

"Well, it's good to finally meet you," Bill said, holding out his hand to shake.

Stanford just eyed it warily, before wearily reaching out to take it. They shook twice and parted, and Stanford paused, almost as if expecting the world to implode right then and there. Shaking hands with a demon was a bad thing, right? He mentally shrugged when nothing bad happened, and decided to put it out of his mind. As far as Bill was concerned, no deal was struck.

"Yeah," replied Stan. "You too."

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this fic is primarily prompt driven. leave a prompt, it'll go into the pool


	10. Body Spasms

_originally written s a prompt fill for tumblr user grunklebill. next chunck of chapters are all prompt fills, so enjoy. If you want to know what the original, full prompt was, check ao3's author notes. i try to keep these short and sweet_

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Today had been a surprisingly quiet day. The twins some how managed to not get into any trouble at all that day, and he had more fun than he was willing to admit playing laser tag with Soos and the others. Still, there was nothing better than a quiet house (the twins went straight to bed when they got home, to Stan's immense relief). He leaned back in his chair, ready to watch another rousing episode of Baby Fights, when he felt the air shift next to his ear.

The next thing he knew, the world had gone grey, and hovering next to him was the one and only Bill Ciper. "So, I've been thinking," said Bill, getting right to it. He never was one for small talk.

"Oh have you now?" asked Stan, only mildly annoyed about being pulled into their private space without warning.

"Yeah," said Bill. "You see, when I was keeping your nephew out of trouble a few weeks back-"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Oh, is that what we're calling it?"

Bill huffed, "Yes, anyway, _as I was saying_ ," he narrowed his eye at Stan, "When I was keeping your nephew out of _trouble_ , I learned a few things."

He lazily inched closer to Stan, until he was practically looming over the older man. "And what could you, oh _all-knowing one_ have possibly learned by possessing a 12 year old boy?" Stan asked sarcastically.

"Tell me, Stanford," Bill began, flexing his fingers in a mildly threatening manner, "are you ticklish?"

Bill didn't miss the way Stan paled at the word. "No, absolutely not," he said.

"C'mon," said Bill, fingers inching closer. "Are you sure?"

"I have nerves of steel," he backed up as much as his chair would let him. This is what he gets for allowing the little demon to corner him. "Get away from me."

"Are you sure you're not ticklish, Stanford?" Bill lightly dusted his fingers over Stan's arm, earning him an indignant grunt for his efforts.

"Don't coME ANY CLOSER." And like that Bill was on him, tickling his ribs and under his arms.

Stan tried to push Bill away, but Bill only turned temporarily incorporeal. "Stop, Bill, no," Stan managed to get out between peals of laughter. "Body Spasms!"

Bill let up, and floated back, satisfied. "Nerves of steel, huh?"

Stan could only glare halfheartedly. "Let us never speak of this again."

"No promises," said Bill with a grin in his voice

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this fic is primarily prompt driven. leave a prompt, it'll go into the prompt pool


	11. Nonexistent love triangle

_prompt fill for ao3 user southernkittygal, asked for a stan^2xbill love triangle_

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It was summer, and Stanford Pines had decided to visit his twin brother for a few months. He justified it, saying that it was only to give his brother some assistance with his supernatural escapades for a little while, to take a break from his vacuum business that was crashing and burning. But really, he was more interested in his brother's mysterious roommate, who he had met last Christmas when he visited, and who turned out to be a literal demonic entity. Looking back on it, Stanford really shouldn't have been surprised by that.

Said demonic entity was… interesting, to say the least. At least, as far as Stanford was concerned he was. There was just something about him that made Stanford's gut twist, made him want to run and hide the way a good horror movie did. Bill Cipher was terrifying, but addicting all the same.

Stanford had gone inside to grab a couple of cold beers from the fridge, before returning to join his brother on the ratty old couch he had set out on the back porch.

"So, whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked as he handed his brother the can, startling him out of whatever thoughts he was lost in in the process.

After recovering slightly, Stanley took the can and settled back into the couch as his brother sat down. "Oh, uh," he started, stumbling over his words slightly, "Bill, actually."

Stanford opened the can and took a drink. "Bill, huh? What about him?" he asked.

Stanley sighed, opening his own can and taking a tentative sip. Beer had always been more Stanford's thing than his own. "I just think it's a shame he's so limited on what he can do on the material plane, is all."

Stanford took another drink from his can. "What makes you say that?"

"He can only _really_ touch stuff in the shack because of our deal, but outside of that he can't really make any permeant changes," Stanley explained.

"Well," Stanford said with a shrug, "shouldn't that be a good thing? I mean, he already seems to have a lot of power. From what I've seen, at any rate." And it was true, Stanford had seen Bill do some incredible things in the short time he'd known him. Terrifying things, but incredible all the same. He'd never admit it to anyone but himself, but he found the guy a little bit… awe inspiring.

Stanley hummed thoughtfully before replying. "I suppose you're right about that. It's just a little tragic, is all. I mean, I really like the guy, you know?"

Stanford felt his heart stop for a moment. Stanley liked this guy? His mind instantly jumped to romance of its own accord, he didn't even consider that maybe Stanley liked the guy as a brother, or an interesting roommate. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said, only a little nervous. He took a drink from his beer as a way to avoid answering.

"He's just so powerful, the things he can do are terrifying, but incredible… it's a little bit… awe inspiring," Stanley said with a small smile, perfectly mirroring Stanford's earlier thoughts.

Reality seemed to flicker for a second, but Stanford didn't notice it. He was too busy watching the almost loving expression on his twin's face. He did catch a little bit of grey out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked it was gone.

"He's like a good horror movie," Stanley added after a moment. Stanford was too busy staring at the can in his hand to notice the almost predatory, unnatural smile creeping onto his brother's face. "Terrifying, but addicting all the same. I think I might _love_ him."

Depression seemed to instantly wash over Stanford. Stanley loved Bill? It would only make sense, they were living together after all. And Stanley did always have an attraction to knowledge and dangerous things. Bill himself was dangerous knowledge incarnate. Stanford wasn't sure why this upset him, but it did. It wasn't like _he_ loved Bill. Because he didn't. He hardly knew the guy, after all. "Oh," was all he could say in response.

By the time Stanford had turned to look at his twin, Stanley's expression had already returned to normal. "You're not _jealous_ , are you?" Stanley asked, face and voice full of concern.

Stanford waved him off. "Me? Jealous? Over a triangle? No, no, not at all." His voice wavered slightly. He wasn't jealous. He hardly _knew_ Bill, he had no reason to be attached.

"Of course," said Stanley with a nod. "After all, you hardly _know_ Bill. You have no reason to be attached." Stanford shuddered as Stanley once again voiced his exact thoughts word for word.

It was in that moment he realized something was off. How long had the color been gone from the woods in front of him?

Slowly, he turned to look at his brother, who was staring at him intently, a huge unnatural grin on his face. Stanford felt his heart speed up a little, fear evident in his eyes.

Stanley started laughing a familiar, annoying laugh. With steady drips, Stanley's entire being fell away revealing the demon beneath.

Stanford's fear turned to irritation as he realized that the whole time he thought he'd been talking to his brother, he'd actually be talking to Bill. "Was that really necessary?" Stanford asked, not really sure why he even bothered.

Bill just laughed more. "Man, you should have seen the look on your face," he said. Stanford could just _hear_ the grin in his voice.

Stan just groaned and forced himself to wake up out of the dreamscape. He was able to do it much easier than the first time he tried. Even on the material plane, he could still hear Bill's irritating laughter. He rolled his eyes and went inside. He knew that within the walls of the shack, Bill could manifest as long as Stanley was home, but he didn't care. He just needed to get _away_ from the annoying little demon.

More than that, he needed to get _away_ from the idea that he might actually enjoy Bill's company more than he would care to admit, in a weird sort of way.

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this fic is primarily prompt driven, leave a prompt it'll go in the pool


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